


the monsters turned out to be just trees

by ginnyweasleys



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyweasleys/pseuds/ginnyweasleys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find Clarke after almost two weeks of searching and she is covered in mud and blood and carrying Anya with her, and the first thing she does is fall into Bellamy's arms. Finn notices. She fits into Bellamy like she was meant to be there. She doesn't even look at him for a solid minute. ―- BellamyClarke, through Finn's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the monsters turned out to be just trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feignedgrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feignedgrace/gifts).



> this is dedicated to hope (feignedgrace) for her birthday; i love you and i hope you like this!
> 
> spoilers for 2x03 but everything beyond that is au/wishful thinking for a reunion. no finn-bashing, i just wanted to get inside his head as it seems pretty dark and fascinating this season.

  
**the monsters turned out to be just trees**

_remember when we couldn't take the heat  
i walked out, said "i'm setting you free"_  


* * *

He dreams of finding her that night, dreams of her face and her smile and her touch as he lies, tossing and turning, on the ground beneath the shade of a tree, a makeshift campsite to rest for only a few precious hours, and he dreams of her so vividly, he startles himself awake.

She is beautiful in his dreams, the way he remembers her, not with blood and dirt caked over her face or a leader's gaze and a healer's hands, but with her hair loose and her smile untempered by all those she lost – they lost – he lost.

He is losing.

He has lost.

He lost her.

He looks down at his hands and finds them covered in blood – no, they're bleeding – no, he's hallucinating. But the blood still drips, down and down and down, vividly red in the same shade as his nightmares. The same shade as the blood of the man he killed. The man he –

 _This would be an execution_!

The man he executed.

She would hate him, if she knew.

-:-

Finn stands, only half-awake, with his pulse skittering with nervous energy, his heart pounding like a war drum, his nightmares etched onto the backs of his eyelids, and he goes to find Bellamy at the edge of their sanctuary beneath the trees, a gun in his hands and a weariness in his gaze.

The weariness of a leader. Clarke had that same look in her eyes; he remembers it all too well.

"Why are you awake?" Bellamy sighs, lowering the gun from where he had pointed it at Finn out of instinct. "You need rest."

"Can't sleep," Finn mutters, the most words he's said since they left the grounder behind. "Let me take over."

"No, I got this," Bellamy says, and Finn can't shake the feeling that he's being judged when Bellamy looks at him. Like he's being judged, and been found guilty. Trial by jury, he thinks wryly, and the jury isn't just Bellamy – the jury is _them_. The two of them. Always the two of them.

Bellamy looks tired, and when Finn finds it in himself to meet his gaze, he sees the weight of the whole world resting on Bellamy's shoulders. Clarke looked like that, too. He can't tell if Bellamy reminds him of Clarke, or if everything reminds him of Clarke.

He thinks of Raven, half her leg numb and her whole body aching with pain, the surgery pulling screams from her throat, the hurt in her eyes when she'd told him it was over. He thinks of Bellamy, eyeing him like one would a killer; he thinks of Clarke, who would look at him the same way if she were here.

"Go sleep," Bellamy says, his voice low with exhaustion, and turns away. Finn stands there for the longest moment, staring at Bellamy's back and wondering how this happened. The arrogant would-be murderer and the calm would-be peacemaker, and here they are. The boy king turned moral compass, and him, a killer.

_There are some lines you can't uncross._

-:-

He notices more than everyone thinks he does. People tend to write him off as the spacewalker who fell in love, the boy so blind to the world he tried to fight for peace. He's not blind, though. Not even a little. Sometimes, he wishes he were.

They find Clarke after almost two weeks of searching and she is covered in mud and blood and carrying Anya with her, and the first thing she does is fall into Bellamy's arms. Finn notices. She fits into Bellamy like she was meant to be there. She doesn't even look at him for a solid minute.

Finn notices.

When she hugs him, it feels like second place, like an afterthought, like being judged, even though he knows he's only imagining it. She holds him tight, her hands curled into his shirt, his confession of love pounding between their hearts. Bellamy watches them for half a second and then turns to appraise Anya, and Clarke pulls back too soon. Finn wishes his hands weren't shaking when she does. He missed her. He misses her.

He doesn't want her to hate him.

"Let's find a spot to rest," Bellamy suggests, and he doesn't look at Finn but he does look at Clarke, and his fingers brush her arm when he passes her.

Finn notices.

-:-

"I want you to know," he says slowly, quietly, well out of earshot of the rest of their party, "I'm – I'm going to tell her."

Bellamy stares at him, brow furrowed. "Tell her what?"

Finn swallows. "What I – I did. You don't have to tell her. I will."

Bellamy takes one step closer; Finn fights the urge to step back. "I wasn't going to tell her," he says, then lets out a humorless half-laugh and looks down. "You don't have to tell her, either. But you should know – " A pause, a breath, a heartbeat. "She loves you, you know."

Finn isn't sure he's right, but he forces a smile and walks away, pretending he doesn't feel Bellamy's gaze heavy on his back as he does.

-:-

They're attacked the next morning, and the next, and it takes three days before he finds himself with enough quiet time to talk to Clarke. When he searches her out, he finds her with Bellamy, the two of them standing and talking quietly under the shade of a tree. They're not even touching, but they still look so intimate, it makes his heart ache.

He doesn't want to interrupt, but Bellamy looks up and sees him first, and he nods. Gently, he nudges Clarke to turn around and notice him, and before Finn can say anything, he's already gone, leaving the two of them alone, face to face in peacetime.

"Finn, hi," she says softly, walking closer, looking unsure about something – maybe about him. "Is everything okay? Did Murphy or Anya do some – "

"Everything's fine," he interrupts, and offers her the shadow of a smile. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Clarke's eyes widen; he hopes it's in interest. Taking a breath, he opens his mouth to say the words, _I killed a man to find you_ , and the addendums, _He didn't do anything, he didn't deserve it, I executed him, Bellamy said not to do it_ , but the words get tangled up and caught in his throat.

Instead, he says, "I missed you."

Clarke touches her hands to his arms, squeezing gently. "I missed you, too," she says, and he's silent for a moment too long, because she smiles at him and then walks past, straight to where Bellamy is standing.

-:-

There are very few things Finn Collins is certain of anymore.

One, the Earth is full of monsters, both real and imaginary.

Two, he loves Clarke Griffin.

Three, he is a killer.

Four, he doesn't regret it.

Five, he doesn't deserve Clarke Griffin.

-:-

Six, she is falling in love with Bellamy, and all he can do is watch.


End file.
